


Keep the Home Fires Burning

by flightinflame



Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Empath, F/F, F/M, Found Family, Human Experimentation, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Mildly Dubious Consent, Minor Character Death, Post-Project Blackwing (Dirk Gently), Project Blackwing (Dirk Gently), Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-24
Updated: 2018-08-16
Packaged: 2019-06-15 20:10:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15420663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flightinflame/pseuds/flightinflame
Summary: Bergsberg is a small town off the beaten track. For Project Vesta, a Blackwing runaway, it offers a fresh start and the chance of a friend in the town's sheriff.





	1. It gets rough (But there's nowhere to run)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to TnC and Lourdes for all their encouragement for this fic. All chapter titles from the song "Keep the Fires Burning" by REO Speedwagon.
> 
> Vesta is the Roman virgin goddess of the hearth, home and family.
> 
> Please pay attention to warnings. While I'm trying not to be too explicit, this fic does go to some dark places.

Tiffany sat on the edge of her bed, feeling a little dizzy and really sick. She thought she was probably hungry - she'd got into another fight yesterday. She wanted to go home, even though she knew she didn't have a home to go to. Not any more. Mister Priest had made sure of that. She had no family to return to, and anyway, they were the ones who had called these people in. It wasn't like she was dangerous - she knew enough about some of the other experiments. There were the vampires she had been dragged in front of, who had left her exhausted after eating her energy, and there was the occasional explosion or screams from the cells of those who were able to arm themselves. The girl with the knives walked in sometimes. But Tiffany, Project Vesta, wasn't dangerous.

All she could do was feel. In that way, she supposed she was almost like Project Icarus, who she hated very very much. Because he was _always_ scared. She would be sitting and trying to concentrate on remembering stories her mom had told her, and Project Icarus would be screaming in terror and it was bad. It would wake her up in the middle of the night if he had a nightmare.

Because Icarus felt ideas, he felt the universe telling him what would happen. And all she got was shots of emotions, knowing when ladies’ beautiful smiles weren't meant, when men got loud because they wanted to cause pain and when they did it to try and shield themselves from being hurt worse. She'd been here for 186 days now. She'd missed her thirteenth birthday, lost in some underground prison, feeling the terror that pressed in on all sides, with occasional flecks of glee that were somehow worse.

Incubus was the closest she could feel to contentment, and today even that peace was missing - she could feel spikes of pain from one of their number, and fear and anger from the rest. There was always so much to feel here, no way of silencing it, and she longed for some kind of oblivion. She couldn't remember when she had last slept through the night - Icarus stopped her most nights, his distress bleeding into her cell. She assumed that they must be close, but didn't know where. The soundproofing to the cells themselves was too good. Sometimes she imagined him in the cell above hers, his fear dripping down onto her as she slept.

She could feel the brightest-burning of the spots of glee getting stronger, and knew before the door opened that it would be Mister Priest. She raised her hands carefully, trying to stop herself shaking, glancing down at her uniform. It was pristine white, with an orange stripe across the chest. She didn't know how long she'd be able to avoid getting blood on it, and knew ruining uniforms got you into trouble. 

She was on the verge of a panic attack when the door opened and Mister Priest walked in, holding what appeared to be a child's teddy bear in his hand.  
She held herself still as he approached.  
"Project Vesta," he greeted her as she tried to remember how to breathe.  
"Mister Priest," she swallowed. She should have known that a test was coming today. She'd been trying to chase fleeting brushes of joy and peace in the prison, hadn't registered the fact her injuries from last time were probably healed enough now.

"You're looking a lot healthier. I do hope that you won't give me any cause for concern today."  
"No Mister Priest," she mumbled, staring at the ground and catching the bear when he threw it at her.  
"Present for you. Bring it to testing today."  
"Thank you Mister Priest." She didn't trust this bear. There was something very wrong with it, but she had no idea what. She held its paw in one hand as she followed him around the corridors. She wanted to ask who would be conducting her testing today, if Mister Priest would be watching or if he had other priorities, but she knew not to ask. 

Mister Priest was happy. That meant things would be bad for someone. She glanced at the bear, wondering why she had been given it, if it was a test to see if she would treat it a certain way, gather emotions, or what. 

The door to the testing room opened, and revealed an almost empty space. There was a chair, and a table, and the mirror which meant that scientists would be watching and making notes. There were no restraints, no scientists waiting in the room - just her, the bear, and Mister Priest.  
"Sit down," he ordered, and she did so, putting the bear down carefully on the table.

A sudden idea hit her - they could be seeing if she could tell how the person who had last held this had felt. She ran her hands carefully over it, closing her eyes, chasing shadows. There was sadness there, and fear.  
"Whoever held this was scared."  
"Hardly impressive for this base," Mister Priest answered, passing her a blindfold. She put it on unquestioningly, and heard noises.When Mister Priest ripped the blindfold off, she saw that ten bears, all identical, were on the table.  
"Pick up the one you just examined."

She froze. She could feel the bear that was sad, second from the left on the back row. But what interested her was the bear front right. It was identical to all the other bears, but it was different. She knew picking it up meant she might be in trouble, but it called to her louder than the one she was meant to pick up, and taking a deep breath she reached out and snatched it into her hands.

Mister Priest raised an eyebrow, looking at her curiously.   
"Are you sure about that?"  
"This one is..." It wasn't the one she was meant to pick up - it wasn't the mixture of fear and sadness she had felt before. This one was curious. It wasn't that the last person to hold it was curious, that would have been one thing. This was the bear itself that was curious. She couldn't easily explain it, but the bear was feeling things. It was surprised to have been picked up. "This one is different. The one I picked up is there -" she pointed down at it, not wanting to release her grip on the one she was holding.

"Let me take a look at that one?" Mister Priest asked, his voice sounding almost polite. He was more curious than aggressive now, although that could change at an moment. He reached for a knife in his belt, and Project Vesta hesitated, the bear in her hand growing heavy. She almost dropped it, glancing down at her hand to see that it had changed somehow, become stone.  
"Hello Project Lamia. I did know that you were there."  
The bear changed again, and there was a girl sitting on the ground by Vesta's feet, staring up at her. Unlike Vesta, she had been allowed to keep her hair long. She waved one hand.   
"Hello?"  
Awkwardly, Tiffany waved back, her heart hammering in her chest. She hoped they weren't both going to get punished for this, that they wouldn't be in trouble for what she was doing. She could feel that Mister Priest was angry now, and the girl felt afraid. Even if she wasn't in a jumpsuit, she must have been an experiment, like her. Tiffany sighed, dreaming of the day she would no longer have to wear a uniform.  
"It appears that Project Lamia has decided to hijack today's testing." Priest sighed softly. "I will be dealing with her, then coming back for you. You'll see her again soon, they want to know how you handle her when she's being some random junk.” He turned his attention to Lamia.   
"You're in trouble now, and so is Svlad."  
"I just... just wanted to say hello..." the girl answered, and the sheer terror she was feeling made Tiffany's chest grow tight, leaving her gasping for air.

"I'll be back for you soon, Vesta," Mister Priest promised, before marching her back to her bedroom and locking her inside.

The room was empty aside from the bed, and she flopped down onto it, trying to imagine what she would do when she escaped. She was going to run away, that much was certain. But they would come for her. Her abilities let her feel when people were chasing her. She could remember the first time she had felt Priest's emotions as he hunted down her and her family, her name echoing from his voice. She would have to run, to change her appearance, and find a way to survive when she had nothing other than the agency which was chasing her. 

She would have to reinvent herself. Her hair had been shaved off when she arrived, and was kept cropped short so that they could attach electrodes, monitor her brainwaves when she felt people being tortured. She wanted to grow it long, dye it different colours. She wanted tattoos that weren't just the project symbol across her heart, and she wanted to listen to music that would drown out the memories. She wanted to feel things, not just fear and sadness but euphoria, hope, friendship. She dreamed of escaping, of running far from here, to somewhere she wouldn't be noticed, somewhere no one would have heard of Blackwing. She would need a new name, a new identity, and laid on her bed bouncing name ideas around in the silence. Tiffany had been an aunt, and she liked the name, but Blackwing would use it to track her. Theresa sounded like an old woman's name. Thomas could work for a little while, until her body began to develop more and her hair grew out. She paused, an answer hitting her, one that felt right, one which caused her own little bubble of happiness to form and spill out for a few moments, driving back the terror like a flickering candle. Tina.


	2. Livin' here in doubt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please heed this fic's warnings. Thank you to everyone for reading :)

Project Vesta was lying in bed, trying to get some rest. There was a tension in the air that was stopping her, a sense that something was going to happen. Her testing earlier had involved shocks, and her body still ached. She reached up, her fingers brushing the slight down of hair she had been allowed to keep. One day she would escape, and when that happened, she was going to let her hair grow long.

She smiled to herself, allowing that daydream to drown out her terror. She would be Tina, and she would have friends and go to listen to music. The past three years would be behind her, and she would be like any other sixteen year old. Maybe she would never be able to quiet the thoughts that chased her, the emotions she felt from every person who walked past, but she had to try. She needed to attempt normality, and when she put Blackwing behind her and became someone new, she would manage it.

Before then though, she needed to be careful. If anyone heard her use her new name, even whispering to herself in bed at night, she would be caught and they would know where to start their search. So she kept it to herself, the name sealed in her heart against the ever-present cameras. She couldn't stop other people sharing their emotions, but her name would be hers alone.

Over the time she had spent at Blackwing, fear had been constant - sometimes a wave that threatened to pull her under, and at other times a fog which permeated each cell between breaths.

Aside from when she was locked in one of those lead lined coffins, floating in cold water as her ears reverberated with static, she never felt silence. But today, the fear was different. This wasn't just the fear that something bad was going to happen. Whatever was frightening them was happening now, was a genuine danger. This wasn't just a nightmare, this was reality. 

She looked around her room, longing to notice something that she could use to arm herself, but they weren't that foolish. There was nothing here that she could use to try and protect herself from whatever was coming.

The door to her cell opened, and the wave of emotion which crashed over her knocked her off of her feet. To start with, she couldn't untangle the range of feelings, couldn't get back up when all she could sense was terror. Then other familiar feelings began to bleed through - fear and sadness. She could sense that, but it felt different somehow - because of what else was mixed within it.

These feelings were hard to place, because she hadn't felt them much during her imprisonment. But slowly she began to recognise them. There was joy, and excitement, and there was the sense of safety which was pouring off the youngest of project Incubus. She blinked, wrapping her arms around herself as she stepped out, feeling a flicker of hope. She wasn't sure if that hope was her own or someone else's, only that it mattered somehow. 

There were alarms and the distant smell of smoke. She was aware of screaming, but the feelings that crashed through her overwhelmed everything else. There were projects running, trying to flee, and some of them were trying to ruin the place as they went. She stayed in the doorway to her cell a moment longer, glancing back at the empty room. There was nothing for her here, no good memories she needed to try and rescue. Mind made up, she started to run.

She ran along corridors, not entirely sure where she was going, and not stopping to speak to anyone. There was an occasional burst of relief as one or other of the subjects found an escape, along with feelings of pain. Her time at Blackwing had helped her hone her skills to an idea of direction, but wasn't enough for her to be certain.

She took a deep breath and started to run faster, glancing up only occasionally as she followed flickering signs and the pull of emotions. She could sense fear, and apprehension as she reached the doorway. A boy a couple of years older than her was standing on the threshold, a clown toy clasped in his hand, both afraid. She flashed them a smile, took a deep breath, and started to race forward.

She didn't get far before she needed to pause, gasping for breath. But she glanced around, and as she did so she began to realise what had just happened. She could still feel the joy flooding from the rest of the escapees. She looked up at the stars.  
"I'm free," she whispered to herself, because there was no one else to tell.

***

Free wasn't the same as safe, or the same as fed, or the same as warm. She wandered through the starlit night, waiting for Blackwing guards to surround her at any moment. She could feel the distant warmth of something - a group of people, loud, happy. With no other idea of where to go, and only death and pain behind her, she let herself follow the universe's call.

There was a rundown barn, gaps in the roof tiles obvious even in the moonlight. There were people there, laughing, and she could tell they were happy, could sense their joy and the alcohol flowing through their blood, could feel an ecstasy that was new to her. She walked forwards slowly, half-expecting it to be revealed as another test, another trick. 

She approached cautiously, glancing around in case any of the other projects had made it here. She wasn't a threat, but she knew some of them were, and she didn't want to run into trouble. Not when freedom was still fresh, not when she was still wearing the jumpsuit she hated.

She paused by the door, worried her clothes would give her away, but a young man walked forwards, waving to her. He was already fuzzy from the alcohol he had been drinking, and his eyes lingered on her as she could feel interest spike within him. He pointed at his head, and she couldn't make out what he was saying, but she could tell he was amused.  
"I'm Justin!" he shouted, trying to be heard over the music.

"TINA!" she called back, and she was excited. That was her name. For the first time she'd been able to say her name, and he didn't question it. He didn't beat her, or tell her that she was called Vesta, or that she was a project. He just grinned, his gaze travelling down the front of her jumpsuit, a heat there that made her want to blush.  
"You... you been painting a house?" he asked, pointing at her clothes.  
"Something like that!" she yelled back, and he was laughing, pressing his drink into her hand. She took a gulp. 

It tasted weird, bitter, but she drank it anyway. The music was loud and she could hear people laughing. Her brain felt a little fuzzy, but in a good way. A new way, different from what she was used to. It wasn't like Blackwing, even the happiness here was different. People weren't happy because other people were suffering. They were just drinking and laughing and the music was so loud. She could feel it pulsing through her. People were having fun, and she could feel those that had paired off, spikes of bliss flickering through the air.

Justin was talking to her again, but she couldn't hear the words. She could feel what he was feeling though, the desire that made her knees go weak. The look in his eyes was one she had seen before, but before she had fought it, she had screamed.  
 _She remembered the only time she hadn't got in trouble for bleeding on her jumpsuit. A female guard, one with kind eyes, had come in and sat down beside her. Told her she was a woman now. She hadn't felt like a woman, she'd still felt like a scared child. The guard was smiling gently, her eyes showing an emotion that she hadn't recognised, one that felt only vaguely familiar - one she felt sometimes from Project Incubus when they were with their youngest member. She was given a hot water bottle that she curled around, which eased the pain she was in a little.  
"I mean, you aren't the only girl here, but you're the only one who has to deal with this. Marzanna barely notices the blood, and Lamia just avoids the situation." The guard was smiling a little, her hand dipping into her pocket. She pulled out a small plastic cube, an inch in all directions. "This is an alarm. If any of the guards try anything, activate it. If they manage, then tell me or another of the female guards, and we'll make sure nothing comes of it, do you understand?"_

_She had nodded, because even if she didn't completely understand, she knew what the woman meant. She didn't know why it would be worse than Mister Priest deciding he was going to break her leg as punishment, or being left without food. But the alarm wasn't for those, and it was a kindness she wasn't used to. The guard had run her fingers over her cropped hair, and left._

_She had dreamed of that kindness for a long time, and never forgotten that she had the alarm to use if the need arose._

The last time she had been looked at the way Justin looked at her, it had been a Blackwing guard. She had screamed and pushed her alarm, and had been saved in time, rescued before anything happened. This time, she didn't want to escape it. This was her way of fighting back against Blackwing, of finding out who she was. The music was loud, and Justin's arms were around her shoulders. She leaned up as he tilted his head down towards her, and as they started to kiss she could feel the pleasure he was feeling, the desire building inside of him. Her own mind mirrored his emotions, pleasure running through her at the same time. He didn't care about her, no more than any other girl here. But this was her freedom. She didn't know how long it would last, so she had to make the most of the opportunity. 

Justin pulled away to get her another drink, and she grinned after him, her heart racing in his absence. When he returned, they started kissing again, and she danced close to him, her hands resting on his hips, grinding into him, feeling sparks of want flickering between them.

***

She woke the next morning as she always did, hand covering her mouth so she didn't make a noise. She opened her eyes, and she didn't see the normal ceiling lights. Instead, she found that she was on the floor of the barn, glancing up at the sky. It was cloudy, and water was dripping through the ceiling. An arm was around her stomach, and she twisted a little to take a look, bringing herself into contact with a damp patch of ground. She squirmed away from the puddle, pulling her undershirt on, and glancing around. Justin was laying down, a faint smile on his lips, his mind peaceful and without thought. He was wearing his boxers and nothing else. She reached out, rifling through his jeans pocket and pulling out his wallet. She stuffed a couple of dollars into her undershirt, and then pulled on her jumpsuit.

"Morning Tifa," Justin grinned up at her, smirking a little. "You sleep okay?"  
"Yeah," she answered, not correcting him on her name - it might throw Blackwing off her scent. It was clear he was only asking after her to be polite. His mind was already wandering, worrying about something or other, but only a little. Not enough for her to feel she was in danger.  
"There's another party here next Friday," he told her with a grin. "Might see you there."  
"Yeah." She shrugged, glancing down at her jumpsuit. It was dusty and stained with alcohol. "Is there a shower around here?"  
Justin snorted and shook his head.  
"I can give you a lift into town if you want, Tifa."  
She shrugged and grinned.  
"Go for it." 

Riding on the back of Justin's motorcycle, Tina clung to him, feeling the wind whip across her face. When they got to town Justin parked and grinned.  
"I'll see you soon, alright?"  
"Yeah," she answered, already knowing she wouldn't see him again, that he was just after a repeat of the previous night. She headed off towards a thrift shop, using the money she had taken to buy some clothes. She jumped at every car that drove past, expecting any one of them to be Blackwing. But no one came for her. No one paid even the slightest attention to the little girl with her cropped hair, curled up on a bench with nothing at all.


	3. Not sure you're in touch with what's real

The world was bigger and scarier than she ever could have imagined, trapped within her cell in Blackwing. But it was full of things. So many emotions, so many different experiences, all dancing past like fireflies, each one lingering for a moment, just long enough for her to reach for them before they darted away.

She wanted to keep travelling. She could feel a vague pull to go North, and she followed it - not the way some subjects did, where they were puppets on the universe's strings. She wasn't a puppet or a leaf, or any of those other words the colonel had told her. She was Tina. She was Tina and she was going to work out her own path.

Working out where parties were was easy enough. She started to chase them down as she travelled, spending nights with men and women whose names she didn't know, because they felt so much that she was almost drunk on it, hypnotised by the sensations that crashed through them. She learned how to tell who was so drunk they wouldn't notice her taking some money, who might be aggressive at a moment's notice. 

It took longer to learn to avoid the aggression, to remind herself that this was her path now. The people she passed, the emotions that brushed against her, weren't her. They were temporary, and she could leave them behind her in an instant if she needed to. If someone was scaring her, she could leave. She didn't think she'd ever felt more powerful.

When she could she watched the news in whatever room she was crashed out in, and flicked through newspapers in diners as she flirted her way into a free breakfast. There was no sign of Blackwing. She was sure they would be coming.

Sleep was hard to come by. 

Most nights she would hear the sounds she had got used to in Blackwing, the faint echo of screams and sobs, the sound of boots on the concrete floor, the constant beeping of the alarm. Sometimes a light would flicker the same way one had in her room at Blackwing, and she'd lose herself. She'd wake up hours later hidden in an alleyway or under some stairs or on a rooftop, her face streaked with tears and her entire body aching. Those were bad days.

Not every day was a bad day, but she could never predict when they would come, when an innocent stranger's smile would mean she lost herself to memories she didn't want to ever think of. 

When that happened, she'd try and remind herself that none of it had happened to her. Not much, anyway, not anything serious. Not compared to what she'd felt. Just stolen memories, emotions and fears and terrors she had no right to mourn over. It didn't matter that she could remember the exact terror that Icarus had felt when the door to his room had opened, could remember the pain that followed, the terror that had kept her awake for weeks.

She lay on a rooftop and screamed out at the sky, hoping that somehow the universe would realise it had to leave her alone. That she wanted to be in peace.

A couple of months after leaving Blackwing she woke up in a motel room she'd shared with a guy the previous night. She grabbed his wallet, finding his name was Preston. He was still asleep as she crept off to shower, standing under the water until it ran cold, and then going back to join him in bed. Her stomach felt weird, twisted inside and she tried to focus on how he was sleeping. He was peaceful.

She grabbed the remote, flicking through until she settled on a movie. She watched, fascinated, as a woman went on a killing spree to get revenge for the loss of her daughter. The woman reminded her of the girl she saw with the knives, and as she saw the name of the director she almost giggled. 

She could use that, and then maybe it would mean in some way the girl with the knives would protect her. Not the same last name exactly, just one close to it, close enough that if the universe was listening maybe it would be feeling merciful. If nothing else, she was fed up of panicking whenever she said her name in case the lack of a surname didn't sound real. She turned off the television again and closed her eyes, trying to remember where she was, but it was no use. Every time her eyes closed she thought she was back there.

"Hey, Crazy T," Preston muttered, blinking up at her. "You look tense."   
She laughed softly at the nickname, shrugging her shoulders.  
"Just thinking,"  
"You're too pretty to think," he murmured, pulling her closer, and she could feel that he wanted her, felt the gentleness with which he touched her, as though she was precious, not just an experiment to be shoved around. Her heart was still racing, but not from fear any more. She heard a van crunch on the gravel outside.  
"I gotta go," she mumbled, pulling away and grabbing his shirt and the pants she was wearing. He raised an eyebrow.  
"What, you're running off with my shirt?"

She grinned, blew him a kiss, and started running, not daring to look back. It was probably just another guest arriving at the motel. She couldn't take that risk. She hoped Preston wouldn't be killed for her carelessness, but she couldn't wait to see.

***

Time blurred, the way it tended to when you used loud music and bottles of alcohol to try and block it out. She kept moving, never holding down a job, learning who she could ask for things. She worked out which men would be gentle, and which were threats, and she enjoyed her time with them, grateful for every second she was stealing back from the monster that had devoured her childhood, every second that she would be able to cling to when they pulled her back.

She was sure Blackwing was on her tail. You didn't just escape. Whatever had happened that night, that tangle of emotions, the intensity of the freedom she had felt - it wasn't the end. She was sure they were watching her. 

She left a couple she'd been staying with in Oregon when she screamed herself awake once too often. She had had a nightmare of watching them both die in front of her, at Priest's hands. 

She wasn't a child any more. She was at least seventeen by now, maybe even legal, and no one questioned when she lied. But those memories made her feel so tired, so small. Like when she had been the little girl whose name she could barely remember, when they had pulled her in, made her Project Vesta, told her with those kind smiles that they were there to help.

The memories were spiralling.

Alcohol helped. So did loud music. If it was noisy enough, if another person was close enough, they drowned out the noises of terror that otherwise filled her mind. She drank more, and started to pick out the people in crowds who were drunk, whose energy flowed through her and softened everything.

It didn't take long after that for her to start using drugs. Using wasn't quite the correct word in a way - it was less that she was taking the drugs, and more that she found someone who had, and cuddled up with them, flirted and laughed and let their emotions flood through her. It was the best relief she found.

She was in Seattle, and the leaves were falling off the trees, and her new friends were passing around a joint. She inhaled when it was her turn, laughing with them, and for once everything was quiet. There was no fear lurking in the corner of her mind, just peace.

It didn't last. One of her friends began to panic, and his fear flowed through her, causing her to fight for breath as she tried to help him.

She left after that.

The universe was calling to her, but she didn't want to hear it. She could tell she was meant to move on, so she stayed. She'd found people who were happy to get high with her, get drunk, and wouldn't notice whether or not she was actually taking the drugs. She needed to be able to get clear headed if she rushed away. Just because the nightmare was silent now didn't mean that it wasn't still coming for her. When she woke up with a hangover in an alleyway or an abandoned building, she'd need to take a few moments to check she wasn't back There. And when she knew she wasn't, she'd start looking for an escape again.

The universe and the memories were both screaming to be heard over the drinks and pills and smoke. She didn't want to listen, but she was losing her fight to drown them out. She lay in bed at night, and even though she could still feel her partner's emotions, it was hard to focus on them. Blackwing had tried to overload her emotions before, to see if she could be deafened from sensing what was around her. Pain had always worked well for that, and now terror was doing the same. 

"You okay Wacky T?" Rizzio asked, his hand on her shoulder pulling her up. She yawned and nodded, curling up against his shoulder, wondering if she'd been yelling this time or just fighting against ghosts.  
"Just... bored." She sighed.  
"You're always bored." He grinned.  
"Well you're boring. You're gonna, what, be a cop? Keep the world safe from delinquents like us?"  
"Yeah," he laughed. "Gotta go back to college soon, you sure your cousin won't mind you staying with her?"  
"Oh it won't be a problem," Tina lied. It had been a quick sentence to get him to stop worrying, but at least he seemed to have bought that she had somewhere to stay when he went back to school.

"Well, hope you find something to do." His hands skimmed down her shirt, and she could feel he wanted her, but she was still shaking. They'd fallen into bed in the early afternoon, and the sun was just setting. She shook her head, pushing his hands away gently.  
"Wanna go out Riz. If this is one of our last nights, I wanna make some memories."  
He grinned, throwing over her clothes as he pulled on his jeans.  
"I heard some band is doing a gig nearby, if you fancy going to a bar? Mexican Funeral or something?"

Tina nodded. That sounded like what she needed. Loud music, a chance to have fun and forget, and not to think about the fact Rizzio would be leaving soon. It wasn't safe for him if she stayed, and he thought she was stupid. But he was kind, and he made her feel amazing, and she'd never been any good at goodbyes.

***

The gig was everything she had hoped for. The music pumped through her body, and Rizzio helped her squirm her way to the front, staring up in wonder at Kidder, Vic, Todd and Ross, half-singing and half-screaming her way through the songs. _42_ started playing, and she laughed, gulping down the rest of her beer and bouncing along with it. Their music was a bit rougher than what she liked, but she was close enough to the front that she could feel their passion, how much they meant every word.

Rizzio seemed to have found another girl to dance with. Tina didn't mind, as long as she was allowed back into his house to grab her back. _Cigarette Incense_ was playing and everyone was screaming and for once her mind and the universe were both being so fucking quiet that she could cry. Instead she laughed, grabbing the nearest person and embracing them, seeing the smile on their face and the way the lights danced across their skin.


	4. To keep lookin' for the good

Tina was tired. A kind of tired she'd never known before. In Blackwing, back There, all that had mattered was survival, and then she'd been having fun. But time had passed, and she had kept moving between towns. She'd never kept in contact with anyone.

Some nights she had dreams that they were chasing her, ever closer, as she left a trail of death in her wake. That just smiling at someone would kill them. But she couldn't help it, because what she felt when she was near people was so much more than when she was alone. She could feel the universe pulling her on, and she didn't know how to make it stop.

She'd left behind the cities. Small towns where no one would know her, where she'd be a stranger but she could slip away after a few days, they became her sanctuaries. Places no one would find her, because no one would think to look.

She had never believed in God, or Santa Claus, or kindness. She just felt the universe pull and Blackwing's shadow and she kept moving. But she'd been running for two years now, and she was exhausted. For the first time, she began to realise that she couldn't live like this. Not for the rest of her life. She couldn't remember when she'd last spent a whole day sober, suspected it had been when she'd been in a jumpsuit.

Lying on a fire escape, she gazed up at the stars and tried to beg them to listen.   
"Please," she whispered, her voice breaking a little. "Just let me find somewhere I can rest." She swallowed. "I can't... I don't know what you want from me. They always said I had a purpose, but I don't know what it is. There's too much to feel, too much to think, and I don't want to go back but I can't keep running. Please, if anyone can hear me. Just... just let me rest." She closed her eyes, wrapping her arms around herself to try and keep out the cold.

***

She carried on the next morning, heading in the direction the universe was pulling her. There had been a faint tug a few days ago, but now she was being pulled at top speed, out of her control, towards wherever it wanted her to go. Rather than listen to her desperate pleas, it had decided to be more insistent than ever.

She continued along, finding herself hitchhiking into a small town called Bergsberg. The guy that had given her a lift dropped her off with a smile and drove away, and she sat down on the ground by the store, trying to work out what to do now. Since she had arrived here, the universe had quieted back down to its normal levels.

The first priority was probably getting some lunch, she decided. She hadn't eaten since the previous night, and she wasn't going to have to rush anywhere now, so food it was. The store behind her was open, an older woman pottering about behind the desk, and a couple of shoppers going through. It was quiet. She walked in, head down to avoid any cameras, bag at her side, and made her way around the store, holding a basket as a shield, picking up the kind of things you'd normally need - milk, bread, potatoes. There were some sandwiches, and a display that did hotdogs that you could pick out yourself.

She grabbed one of the hotdogs, dropping a couple of sandwiches into her bag, and glancing towards the exit. No one seemed to have seen her. She took a deep breath, put the basket down and ran for the door, getting almost there before a man stepped forwards, gripping her wrist.

She struggled, afraid, expecting anger in return, but he was calm as he steered her up to the front desk.  
"You forgot to pay for those," he told her, and his voice was gentle. She looked down, not knowing how to explain that she had no money. He pressed a ten dollar bill into her hand. Swallowing, she handed it over to the cashier, putting the hotdog and sandwiches on the desk. The woman counted out her change, even handed her her receipt, and smiled at the man who was still standing close to her.  
"Thanks Sherlock."  
"Just doing my job," he smiled. She held out his change, and he shook his head. It was strange, she could still not feel any threat from him, or any desire. Just concern. She didn't think anyone had ever been concerned for her before.  
"You can keep the change, but I think we should have a talk. What's your name, Miss?"

She swallowed, wondering if perhaps the universe had listened after all.  
"Tina."  
"Alright Miss Tina," he smiled. "My name's Sherlock Hobbs." He walked with her out of the store, sitting down on a bench, shrugging off his blue Letterman jacket and holding it out to her. "Don't want you getting cold."

She wrapped it around herself.  
"You should eat your hotdog," he prompted gently. She shrugged and did so, trying to unpick the man's emotions. She was pretty good at flirting her way out of trouble normally, but he didn't seem at all interested in her that way.   
"Thanks," she muttered, mouth half full of food. He shrugged, waiting for her to finish it.  
"What happened in there Miss Tina?"  
"Uh." Tina hesitated. She could feel herself tensing, waiting for the strike that wasn't coming, because he wasn't angry, didn't want to hurt her. That coupled with the calmness was unnerving. She half-wondered if he'd taken something - the peace that he had was certainly not something she could create without assistance.

"You aren't in trouble," he reassured her, and she could just tell there were no conditions there. No _we can keep you out of trouble if_ s or anything like that. She bit her lip to stop herself from crying, and he awkwardly reached out, patting her shoulder, the concern flowing from him becoming stronger, but still matched with a steadiness that left her trembling. She leaned against him slightly, because he felt like a harbour, like a rock. Something she could cling to and hide from the way the world shook her at every turn. He wrapped an arm around her, rubbing her shoulder gently. "The way I see it, if you'd left the shop, then you'd have shoplifted and I'd have to arrest you-"   
She tensed beneath his arms and he shook his head.   
"That didn't happen, and I'm off duty. You just nearly left without paying, it happens to everyone at some point or other, hell I walked off without paying at a cafe the other day, damn well near had to arrest myself."   
She giggled slightly, and he grinned at her. She felt herself relaxing despite the fact she wanted to keep her guard up.   
"How old are you Miss Tina?" he asked, his voice still calm, and he wasn't faking it. He was actually calm, and that was incredible. He held out a tissue, and she took it to discover that she had started to cry.   
"I dunno," she mumbled, before continuing at another spike of concern, of care. "I mean, eighteen, but..."  
"Okay, you want to tell me why you're here?"  
"Felt like I should be here," she admitted, not wanting to explain in detail. Two years of fearing that everyone she met might be Blackwing, and she didn't fear that now.  
"You got anywhere to stay tonight Miss Tina? Any family or friends? I can give you a lift to the Cardenas Motel?"

She shook her head dumbly.  
"Don't know anyone here. And not unless they do rooms for-" she paused, dipping her hand into her pocket for the change and counting out the money that remained. "Uh, $5.50."  
"I don't think they do," he agreed with a frown, and this was normally when she'd spin him a line, but it didn't quite feel right.  
"You got a wife? Girlfriend?"  
He shook his head, and she shrugged.  
"Boyfriend?"  
"I live mostly alone, I've got a ginger cat called Ketchup," he told her with a smile. "Look, it's a bit of a strange suggestion-" he frowned, feeling her tense beneath his arm, and quickly moved away as though he'd been burned.   
"Well, if you want you're welcome to sleep in the station tonight? I mean, if you're drunk or whatever, you could sleep it off there, and then tomorrow... Why did you come here Miss Tina?"  
"It felt like I should," she tried to insist, and he nodded.  
"It's not far to the station. You got a cell phone?"   
She shook her head, and he handed her his as they began to walk.  
"If you need to call anyone, or you have any worries, Great Falls is the next major city over, and their numbers are in there,"  
"I don't need to-"  
"Hang on to it tonight," he told her gently. "Won't do any harm to have it, will it?"  
She managed a smile at that.

"No one comes here for no reason Miss Tina, it's not that kind of place."  
"I guess..." she thought about what she'd said to the universe, her prayer in desperation. "I guess I just want a fresh start."  
He squeezed her arm, and nodded.   
"You get some rest now." He showed her into the cell, putting her inside and handing her the key, and fetching her an extra blanket. "Tomorrow we can think about how you can get that fresh start, okay?"  
"Yeah," she swallowed, fighting the sudden urge to sob. He was just being kind to her and she was sure she didn't deserve it but she didn't know how to make him stop.  
"Night Tina. I'll sleep in my truck outside okay? You need anything-" he passed through a walkie-talkie.   
"Thanks Sherlock," she mumbled. "Night." 

She lay down on the bottom bunk in her cell, and waited for sleep. If nightmares came for her, she didn't want to risk falling from a height. But that night, knowing Hobbs was nearby, she slept peacefully.

***

Tina woke up to a strange electronic noise, and her first thought was that she was back There, her body tensing on reflex. She opened her eyes with some effort, and found herself looking at bars, and then heard a voice. She couldn't make out words to start with, distracted by the fact she could hear someone but couldn't feel anything.

"Miss Tina?" the voice asked again, and she stared at the walkie-talkie, glancing down to see she was still in Sherlock's jacket.  
"Hey?" she answered cautiously, not liking the slight electronic crackle it added to his voice. It reminded her of the recordings.  
"Wondered if you felt up to going for pancakes this morning? My treat."  
"Uh, sure..." she glanced around, her gaze falling on her bag.   
"Bathroom's just down the hall, I'm right outside."  
"Thanks."

A couple of minutes later she'd pulled on a different set of clothes, keeping the Letterman jacket and feeling more refreshed than she had for ages. Sherlock waved to see her, stretching a little as he stood up out of his car.  
"Come on, I know this diner." He paused, then there was that worry again. "Are you alright getting in the car with me? We can walk but this is quicker."  
She shrugged, jumping in the passenger side, and he yawned and smiled at her, before driving towards the diner. He handed her the menu when they got inside.  
"Whatever you want." 

She scanned the menu, deciding on pancakes with syrup and ice cream and sprinkles.  
"Arnold," Sherlock greeted the server with a smile. "How's your leg?"  
"Much better thanks Sheriff," the older man answered, taking their orders.  
"You know everyone here?" she asked, and he nodded.  
"Pretty much. It's my job, keep an eye on them and try to help. Look, Tina, if you mean what you said about staying here-"  
She nodded, trying to smile, but it was hard when she wasn't getting the emotional cues she was used to from him.  
"I know a couple, their daughter's away at college so they've got a spare room. Their son's an old fishing buddy of mine, and his boyfriend works at the local library. I called them up last night, and they're happy for you to stay there for a bit if you want?"

Tina nodded, her insides feeling strange again. She wasn't sure she wanted to stay with strangers again, even if Sherlock trusted them.   
"Anyway, you can meet them for pizza later, see how you feel?" he suggested, and she nodded quickly. It'd give her a chance to get a reading on them at least.  
"Excellent," he grinned. "Well, I thought if you wanted we could get you a cell phone? That way I can have mine back."

She reached into her pocket, handing it over without question, but he shook his head.  
"Hang on to it as long as you need it. I just thought if you had my number, then you can let me know if you've got problems at all."  
She slipped the phone back into her pocket, thanking Arnold when he brought over their drinks. Sherlock smiled at her.  
"So what do you like doing Tina?"

Normally, that would be a pointed question, but he seemed to actually care about her answer. She thought for a moment, then shrugged.  
"I like concerts."  
"Well, there's the local music festival in a couple of weeks. Sound of Nothing? Third largest music festival in South Montana," Sherlock said proudly. "Now, the tickets are pretty expensive, but I know they're looking for people to help with the clean up and stuff, and if you do that you get free entry."

Sherlock was weird, Tina decided. He seemed to actually want to help, and didn't seem to want anything in return. It was actually kind of frightening. But she'd asked the universe for this, and it seemed that for once it had actually listened.   
"Thanks."   
"Don't mention it," he shrugged. "If you're serious about this being a fresh start Tina, then I want to help."  
She nodded.  
"I know," she whispered. Because that was true. She could feel it. She tried to work out what to say, but before she could her breakfast arrived, and she fell on the pile of pancakes ravenously. Hobbs said nothing more, letting her eat, and she could feel fondness and pride flowing from him. She looked around as surreptitiously as she could, trying to locate the cause. She couldn't see anything to make him feel proud, so she just classed it as another one of his little quirks, and carried on eating her breakfast.


	5. Can help one another be strong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains off-screen minor character death alongside the other warnings for this fic.

The Sound of Nothing concert had been amazing. Tina had found herself collecting empty glasses for the bar, as she couldn't prove her age, but she'd still found time to dance alongside work. The son of the couple she was staying with, Thomas, was going to pick her up after, so between that and the fact she was working she found herself saying no to a couple of guys she flirted with during the night.

That was new, and she wasn't entirely sure how she felt about it. She considered as she leaned against the window in Thomas's car, watching the sun rising. Ever since leaving There, she'd found herself saying yes every chance she got, telling herself it was control, that it was freedom. But last night no had felt like freedom as well.  
"You get some rest okay Tina?" Thomas told her as he dropped her off at their house, before heading out. "I'm going for a hike with Pete, I'll see you later."

She nodded, going back and collapsing into bed. She could feel the two adults in the next room slowly waking up, utterly contented to be beside each other, and she turned her attention away so she didn't pry. She felt a faint tinge of concern, which faded after a moment - and realised with a sudden flood of warmth that they'd been concerned about whether or not she'd got back the previous night.

***

Tina's life was one long set of mistakes. Finding herself in Bergsberg didn't mean the mistakes stopped, just that she was in one place for long enough to make them. She found the people who did drugs, would drink with them, sit beside them feeling the effects of whatever was coursing through them, and when Sherlock and Thomas came to make the arrests she ended up sleeping back where she'd spent her first night in the town. But it was still different, freer than when she was running.

This was one of those mornings, when she found herself waking up hungover in Bergsberg's cells. She could smell coffee, and Sherlock grinned as he passed it through to her.  
"You gave us quite a fright Tina, when we found you you were unconscious, we weren't sure what you'd taken..."  
"Sorry," she mumbled, looking away from his eyes. Because she was really sorry that it hurt Sherlock when she did stuff like that. She wasn't used to people caring if she was hurt, or worse. There, people would only care about her death due to the data they would lose, but Sherlock and her foster parents would actually care. That was tough to get used to and often meant she made more mistakes. The care frightened her.

"I'll try not to do anything too stup-" she frowned as the door to the station opened, and someone walked in. She couldn't see who it was but the emotions pouring off them nearly knocked her backwards. It was like being back There, the sheer terror and horror of being trapped utterly, and she could feel herself struggling to breathe.  
"Tina?" Sherlock asked, and he was unlocking the door, helping her out, walking with her to the front desk.

"Sheriff Hobbs?" A woman stood there holding a parcel. "Uh, delivery from Robbie's?"  
"Oh, great, Tina this is more bait - you still good to join Tom and me this weekend?"  
Tina nodded, staring at the woman who was smiling awkwardly as Sherlock signed for his parcel, the fear pouring off of her. Tina glanced to the door, half expecting to see Mister Priest standing there.   
"Thank you Ma'am." Hobbs grinned, tipping his hat as the woman turned away.

"Wait!" Tina yelled as soon as she was able to get some air into her lungs. The woman froze, turning around and staring at her in confusion.   
"What?"  
"Sherlock, you need to, I don't know, arrest this woman?"  
"Tina, are you feeling alright?" Sherlock asked, and the woman walked over, frowning.   
"Is she okay?"  
"She was drunk last night, I don't know, Tina how many fingers am I holding up? Do you need an ambulance?"

Tina pushed at Sherlock, escaping from his grip and grabbing onto the mailwoman's arm, flinching as the sense of terror underlying everything peaked alongside the worry from Sherlock and from this woman too.  
"Who is hurting you?" she gasped out, and the woman stared at her, blinking slowly, seeming to be lost.  
"Tina?" Sherlock's hand was on her shoulder, squeezing gently, and he sounded worried, but she shrugged him off, looking into the woman's eyes.   
"What happened?"

Sherlock was pulling her away now, muttering something about her needing to sleep it off, and she didn't have the strength to fight it. She let him sit her down, hand her a glass of water, the woman nearby watching her closely. Tina looked up at her, catching her eye.  
"You can talk to him, you know?" Tina murmured, half whispering it. "He's one of the good ones."

The woman hesitated, then nodded as Tina took another sip of water.   
"Sheriff Hobbs, if you've got a minute, I'd... I need to talk to you."

Tina watched as Sherlock led her to a side room, felt the fear and terror slowly giving way to calm, as Sherlock felt concern and anger mixed with the calm kindness that was uniquely him. When they emerged, it was clear that the woman had been crying.  
"Tina, Layla, can the two of you keep an eye on each other for a bit?" Sherlock asked, and when they nodded he headed to the door and got in his car.

Layla wiped her eyes, and managed a smile. She was still afraid, but there was relief there too.  
"He said you were helping out at some of the local concerts? He's worried about you, you know?"  
"I know," Tina said honestly, and Layla pulled her into an embrace. Feeling no threat there, Tina leaned into the gentle touch.

***

Layla turned up at the station a couple of weeks later with some fresh-baked cookies. Tina was outside the cells this time, messing around on her cell phone and watching as Sherlock did paperwork, just enjoying his company. Thomas wasn't at work today - Bergsberg really only needed a Sheriff and a part time deputy, but Tina didn't mind that, it meant she could relax with Sherlock and steal his coffees. He was always so calm it was almost like being high, but nicer than that.

Layla grinned, and let Tina have the first cookie of the batch, before settling down with Sherlock to talk. The fear was gone now. That was nice. Tina paused, staring at the cookie, and slowly realising that she'd been part of the reason things were alright now.  
She'd done something to help, and she'd made a difference.  
That thought stayed with her. The fact that even if Blackwing did bring her back in (and that looked less likely now than it had before), she'd helped end someone's terror. Blackwing couldn't undo that. Nothing could.  
She got her first tattoo a few days later, three stars around her right eye. One for leaving There, one for meeting Sherlock, and one for helping Layla. A reminder. She had done her research, knew that tattoos on the face were hard to remove. She was counting on it. Because if They brought her back in, she wanted to be able to remind herself that this had happened. That this was real.  
Sherlock smiled slightly when he saw it, when she waltzed into the station the next day to do some reading and see what Hobbs was up to. "Those things stick around, Tina." "I'm counting on it." She grinned at him. "It's a reminder. This place has been good for me."   
"That mean you are thinking about going?"  
"I don't want to."   
"Then you won't have to," Sherlock said simply. "Could you make coffee?" He indicated the pile of paperwork beside him. She laughed, heading into the station kitchen and pulling out her favourite two mugs - her own was rainbow striped, and his had a cartoon of Garfield the cat on it. She made coffee and headed back in.  
"How are you today Tina?" Sherlock asked her, putting his pile of paperwork aside to pay attention to her even when deadlines loomed. She shrugged, putting her cup down on a coaster.  
"Pretty good. Tom's been yelling at me about the tattoo, thinks it looks unprofessional."  
"I'm sure you can use makeup or something if you want to hide it?" Sherlock suggested, and she nodded.   
"He says I need to work out what I'm doing with my life," she admitted, her voice shaking slightly. "Thing is, I never thought I'd have to worry about that."  
Sherlock's hand reached out, resting against hers. He'd never pushed her about her past, never been insistent that she told him. She'd been making a fresh start, and he'd granted her that. She swallowed, not wanting to tell him the truth but hating that she was keeping so silent about it. 

"Where I was before, I just... I didn't think I'd ever have a life," she mumbled, and his thumb brushed over her hand. His concern was there, but she could feel his care as well. She was safe. He was there, and that meant she was safe. "And now, I got the fresh start I wanted, but I don't have anything to do with it. I don't have papers, I don't have..."   
She shrugged, and he pulled her into an embrace.   
"Look, it's not... there's someone I know that you should talk to. She can help you with that."  
"Are you offering to get me fake ID?" Tina asked incredulously, and Sherlock shook his head.   
"Not fake, no. My friend works in Witness Protection. She might be able to assist you."  
Tina smiled shyly at him, and shrugged.   
"You... you're a great friend Sherlock." She felt the pride that bloomed within him at those words, running through her veins, making her smile.  
"Well, you always brighten my day Tina. Now, you want to help me look over these licences?"  
Tina shrugged and grabbed a handful. She knew technically her helping here wasn't quite legal, but it was good to give back after all Sherlock had done for her, and anyway it was interesting.   
"You ever thought about being a cop, Tina?" Sherlock asked as she carefully forged his signature on some paperwork.   
"Don't think they'll have me." She shrugged. "Anyway, collecting glasses at the bar's not too bad. Can't dance on the job if you're a cop."  
Sherlock laughed, getting to his feet and holding out his hand.   
"You serious?" Tina stared, but she took his hand, letting him spin her around.   
"Tina?" he said after a few spins, letting her sit down again. "I think you'd be a good cop. You like helping people. World needs more like that."  
She nodded slowly. "I'll think about it okay? No promises."   
"That's all I ask," he agreed, squeezing her hand and smiling. She took a deep breath, but she managed to smile back.

***

Tina knew that her becoming a cop was a ridiculous idea. That was a job for responsible people, good people, people like Sherlock, not washed out runaways like her that stole people's emotions in a desperate attempt to get high. She'd never pass the tests. They wouldn't want her.

It kept surfacing though, that Sherlock wanted her - but he worked with Tom, and that meant the role of deputy was taken. She didn't mind, she probably spent more time in the station than her brother did, learning from Sherlock. She tried to separate him in her mind - her friend, Sherlock, and the sheriff, Hobbs. She would lay awake at night, wondering whether it was Sherlock or Hobbs that thought she'd be a good cop. Whether he spoke out of friendship, or honesty. He felt honest, when he said that, but she'd never fully understood him and wasn't about to start now. Time passed, she rented her own apartment, still close to her foster parents, and she smoked and drank and partied. She was never particularly close to people in Bergsberg, other than Sherlock, but she didn't need that.

When she had her ID she was able to work as a barmaid, and she found it easier to spend nights getting drunk again, or going off with random men and women - not every time now, but often enough. Tom was furious when he found out, but Sherlock just told her to be careful, was willing to drive her to the next town over if she needed to get a morning after pill. He never yelled, never told her she should settle down.

It was after one of those trips, the two of them in his office, that he asked her something which confused her. She was half-dozing against the wall on his office chair, and he'd grabbed a plastic chair from the hall to sit at his desk as he completed some files - there'd been a spate of graffiti, and while they were fairly certain they knew that it was Scott Boreton, who was ten years old and already a terror, but they needed evidence, especially as neither of his parents would come in and talk to them about it.  
"Tina?" Sherlock asked, and she could hear from the way he spoke that it was Sherlock her friend who was talking to her. "You know you don't have to do that, don't you? I mean if you want to, that's great, I don't want to spoil your fun..." He shrugged slightly. "But you don't need to do any of it."

"It's what people expect," Tina answered with a shrug. She felt like she'd calmed down a lot since arriving in Bergsberg, and half the time it was even fun. She still liked feeling the way people felt when she was with them, or when they took drugs until the world got fuzzy around the edges. She didn't want to stop it completely, not when it was an escape. She'd been in Bergsberg for seven years now, and she felt like she'd carved out a little space in the world that was hers, that people knew she would fill.

There was a pause, as Sherlock picked his next words. She could feel the care he was choosing them with - not because he was worried about offending her, but because he wanted to get this right. Because he wasn't judging her, or angry at her, or even concerned about her actions. But he wanted her to know this, and didn't want to shut her down.  
"What people expect of you doesn't have to define you, Tina," he said, and she nodded, closing her eyes and pretending to be asleep, that sentence rattling around inside her brain. 

She'd been defined by others all of her life. She'd been brought into Blackwing so young she could barely remember before, given a name and stripped of her old identity. Then she'd found her way through parties, through people who looked at her and saw what they wanted to see. Only not Sherlock.

Tina. Her name suddenly echoed in her mind, and she realised that was how she had defined herself. She could barely remember the name that had come with her when she'd gone into that place, but Tina was all her. It was a definition that she'd had, that she'd made. It was up to her what that name meant.  
"You think you could write me a reference if I look into training as a deputy? No promises. Just, I might as well learn about it at least."

Sherlock nodded, and reached out to pull her into a hug.

Becoming a deputy was easier in a way than she had expected - with Hobbs willing to back her, she could get experience working with him two days a week. She shuffled shifts at the bar, and tried to help Hobbs, and often spent the whole day in the station eating popcorn. The clean record had been fudged by Hobbs, who had pointed out that she'd never actually been arrested for drugs, or indeed caught with them on her - just been found in the company of people who had. Even on days when she'd been taken to hospital with a suspected overdose, her bloodwork had come back clean.

The only other issue was the fact she needed a driver's licence (easy enough to get with her ID), and a high school diploma. So Hobbs had made her study, helping her and providing snacks. Layla dropped around every so often, with fresh baked goods, and even though she had no real education she was making progress.

Hobbs said she could take her probationary year with him, and he'd help her find somewhere else after she'd passed that. She dreaded leaving, but understood that Tom had the role with Hobbs first. She hoped she could get a post in Great Falls or something, somewhere near enough she could drive to work every day without leaving Bergsberg.

Her probationary year began the day she got her GED, and Hobbs presented her with a paycheck at the end of the first week. She stared at him.  
"I didn't think we had the money for another deputy?" she asked. She'd been planning to keep working shifts at the bar so that she could afford to do this training without costing Tom any of his salary when he and Peter were looking into adopting a kid of their own.  
"The county doesn't," Hobbs agreed. "I looked into it, and honestly, Tina? You're going to be great. I've got no family, and hell, I don't like fancy holidays or big cars. You're an investment, Tina. Always have been."

She leaned in and hugged him, feeling his pride and affection warming her, then pocketed the cheque, wondering what to spend it on. She wanted to get something nice, something to remember. A tattoo on her thigh, a rose or something maybe. And a new car would be good, one that could get her to Great Falls when she needed it. She'd headed off home, a smile on her face, and fell asleep without once thinking of There. That was in the past now. She'd had a fresh start.

***

She was just drifting off to sleep when a knock sounded on the door. She sat up instantly, her heart racing. Something was wrong. She could feel anger and sadness from whoever was outside her place, and it was a strong enough emotion that she nearly vomited.

She made her way down to the door, and she didn't want to open it. She knew that, with utter certainty. Whatever was on the other side of the door, she didn't want to face it. It felt familiar, but also wrong somehow, something she didn't know, didn't recognise, and she was afraid.

There was another knock, and she reached out, unlocking the door and pulling it open. 

Sherlock stood there, his hat clutched to his chest. He stepped forwards, and wrapped his arms around her, and she could feel him sobbing into her hair. She clung to him, terrified, not finding the words to ask what it was.  
"I'm sorry," he whispered, and there it was. He was trying to be professional, but he'd come here as a friend, and he was hurting too badly to hold it in. "There's been an accident."

Everything fell apart after that. The crash which had cost her her brother and his partner nearly killed her as well, as the steadfast points which she had been clinging to disappeared. She'd forgotten, over her time in Bergsberg, what real pain felt like, what it was to suffocate under agony. Thomas's death had reminded her.

She tried to find her old comforts, turning to pills and sex and alcohol, but nothing helped. She missed the funeral. She stopped turning up to work, wondering if she had somehow caused this. If the universe had known how badly she wanted the job, and taken out the one person in her way. She didn't think she could ever forgive herself.

Three months after their deaths, she was lying on her bed in a drunken haze, when another knock sounded at the door. She didn't manage to sit up to answer it. There was another knock, and another, and then she heard the door open.

She didn't look up, not until the edge of her bed dipped, and Sherlock took her hand in his.  
"Come on Tina, I can't lose you as well. You can come and stay with me for a bit. We can fix this together."  
He gathered her up in his arms, carrying her down to his car. It took all the strength she had left, but she managed to hold onto him in return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think!


	6. Let it keep us warm

Sherlock had rearranged his entire house in preparation for this and that surprised her. Bringing her to stay for a while wasn't some spur of the moment thing, like it might have been when he first met her. This was something he had planned. He had got new sheets for her - a rainbow eyesore which nearly made her smile, and he had made up a bed on the sofa for himself. She was fairly sure that particular layout was so she couldn't sneak out in the middle of the night, but she couldn't bring herself to care. 

She knew she hadn't paid her rent or her bills, had lost her bar job, hadn't contacted her foster parents. She was a fuck up. She had always been a fuckup and at least in Blackwing she hadn't been able to hurt anyone innocent. She had left and now Thomas was dead. If she had possessed even a shred of decency she would have pushed Sherlock away. But she didn't. Not any more. 

He settled her down on her bedsheets, handed her some water and placed Ketchup on her lap. Ketchup immediately curled up there and began to purr.  
"I'll go get some clothes for you," he murmured. "Anything in particular you need?"  
She shook her head and he hugged her briefly.  
"Keep an eye on Ketchup until I get back?"

She nodded and mentally cursed him, because she couldn't break that promise, couldn't leave the cat alone and that meant she had to stay. She curled up on the bed, the cat uselessly nuzzling against her, still purring. She reached out, brushing her fingers through its fur and waiting for Sherlock to come back. He didn't take too long and he returned with a suitcase of her clothes, and a few other things - a book she'd been reading before she heard that Thomas was gone, a photograph of her foster family together, and her uniform. She nearly sobbed seeing the uniform.  
"I've just paused your probation, Tina. You underwent severe emotional trauma," Sherlock told her. "It's there, if you want it. But you don't have to make a decision now. All I ask for now is that you fight to keep going. Don't make me lose you."  
There was no answer she could give to that, so she just leaned against him.

He let her cry on his shoulder, never trying to slip away or complain as she sobbed herself into unconsciousness. She woke up safely tucked into bed, and he was reading beside her.  
"Don't you have work?"  
"Took some leave," he told her and she stared. He was still acting as though she was an investment, as though he cared - and she could feel that he did. He was worried but he trusted she would get better. He felt hopeful. He looked at her, shattered emotionally and physically, barely able to stay awake, and he was hopeful that she was going to be alright. That she wouldn't disappoint him.

"Thomas thought you'd be a great deputy you know?" Hobbs told her one morning, about a week into her stay. She was still mostly staying in her bed, getting up only to shower and use the bathroom, but she'd finished reading her book, and started on a new one. She put the book down, looking at him.  
"You mean that?"  
"He knew you would be," Hobbs promised, and she noticed he was wearing his uniform.

"You off to work?"  
"I am. I wondered if you'd like to come to the station with me. Cells are empty, you can take your blankets and curl up on the bed with your book if you want. I'd just rather not leave you alone today."

"Okay," Tina muttered. Her hair was still a mess and she was exhausted, but no one ever bothered the station, and she couldn't keep expecting Hobbs to put his life on hold for her. He helped her down to the car, and drove her there, and she settled on her usual bed in the cells, napping. He brought his paperwork in and sat on the floor so he was close. That helped more than she would have expected.

Midway through the afternoon some mail arrived and he returned with some cookies.  
"Layla says hi, she's waiting outside if you feel up to guests?"  
Tina shook her head then swallowed.  
"Maybe tomorrow."

Hobbs grinned, as though that answer was more than good enough, and she let herself taste the cookie, her fingertips rubbing along the tattoo beside her eye.

***

The next day, she brushed her hair, and managed a few words with Layla. That exhausted her, but Layla seemed to understand, leaving her in peace after a short while so that she could return to the cells and rest. That evening, when Hobbs was done for the day, he knocked on the bars and then smiled.  
"You ready to go home?"  
"Can we... can we go to Thomas's grave first?" she asked. She hadn't been there yet, but she had something to tell him.

Without hesitation, Hobbs brought her there, and she rested her hand on his gravestone, not letting herself cry. Sherlock was beside her, a supportive arm on her shoulder. She stared at the headstone. Thomas was buried beside Peter, which helped a little.  
"Hi... hi Thomas," she mumbled softly. "I'm sorry that... I'm sorry this happened, and I'm sorry if it... if this is my fault. But... you were a good brother. Thanks for... for giving me the push I needed to get... I'm going back to work. Not sure when. But I'm going to complete my training. Someone needs to look after Hobbs and I guess that's me now."

That said, she collapsed back against Sherlock, and let him take her home.

***

It was another two weeks before she felt ready to start working at the station again and mostly that was just paperwork. She wasn't confident behind the wheel but Sherlock gave her rides, and had told her he was happy to drive with her when she was ready to try. Putting on the uniform felt like a big step. She stared at her reflection, and wondered if she'd killed her brother, if the universe had heard her plea for stability and decided that a job at Great Falls was further than she wanted to go. She doubted she'd ever know, but she would have to live with that.

Thomas wasn't there any more. He was gone, and she had to do what she could to keep his legacy going. To live the kind of life that would make him proud.

So she did. She passed probation, worked on her driving and went down to the cemetery most weekends while Sherlock was fishing, to tell her brother what she'd been doing. She went back to her own house, but slept in the cells or on Sherlock's' sofa more than she would have liked to admit.

She still drank and she'd find people who smoked weed, but she didn't try to take anything stronger. It was tough. The world still felt blurry around the edges, as though someone had ripped the heart out of her. But she tried. Trying was all she could do, all that was left for her now.

***

She hummed, slipping through the station in search of a drink, grabbing a can from the fridge and singing to herself as she made her way to the cells. She could hear Hobbs was working late, and didn't want to go to her apartment alone. She'd been out for a walk last night and run into some friends, and had overslept, so technically she was late but she couldn't see that mattering.  
"Tina?" Hobbs called as she pushed open the door. "Tina Tevetino, get in here, where the heck have you been?"  
She leaned against the doorway, trying to decide on an answer.  
"Okay, so. Yes, okay, I'm high." Might as well start out with what would disappoint him. "But I'm not drunk. Okay, I am drunk, but it was just white wine, and I slept most of it off." Her head was hurting - and not from the alcohol or the drugs. The universe had wanted her to come to work, and that had made her less keen than ever to do so.

"So I have been sleeping in my car all day," she admitted, and Hobbs didn't get angry, just frowned at his computer screen. "But guess what? Nothing happened. Nothing's gonna happen, nothing ever happens." She could feel that Hobbs felt different somehow, was anxious, and that was getting to her.  
"What's the face?"

Hobbs turned his laptop screen around towards her. It turns out Hobbs was searching the FBI's most wanted, and had stopped on an image of a brother and sister team, and an associate. Tina was momentarily distracted by how utterly gorgeous they were, before deciding that probably wasn't why Hobbs was showing it to her.  
"Something happened," Hobbs explained, staring up at her and even though he looked calm, there was concern there too.  
"Alright," Tina swallowed, sitting on the edge of the desk. "What happened?"

Two people wanted by the FBI showing up in Bergsberg was literally the most interesting thing that had ever happened there, and Tina promised Hobbs she'd keep an eye out before going home to rest. She wasn't sure why she felt so tired but it seemed like the universe was conspiring to exhaust her, so she went and napped like it wanted and hoped that would be enough to persuade it to leave her alone and let her carry on with her boring Blackwing-free life.

That wasn't to be. She drove into the station the next morning music blasting, to find a figure slumped outside the station looking utterly miserable, handcuffed to a pillar. She raised an eyebrow, moving closer, wondering if this was some kind of wedding hijinks gone wrong.  
"Hey, are you-" she started before she realised what exactly would cause someone to be in handcuffs in (or at least beside) a police station. She leaned against the Sheriff's car, and took a closer look at the man. "Did Hobbs arrest you?"

The man looked up, and there was something about him that felt familiar in a way she couldn't quite place. He felt a little anxious - which was to be expected. But beyond that, he felt ecstatic. Utterly delighted. She couldn't feel any drugs there, but she could easily have got high just through the sensations flowing through him. She tried to focus when he answered.  
"Me? No?" The man explained, looking more suspicious than anyone she had ever seen. "Maybe them. The ones inside.I'm just an associated figure, like a cousin, except not related, so really not like a cousin." She took her sunglasses off to see him more clearly. He kept smiling. So he was arrested, and he was happy about it. Today was _weird_.

"I'm more of... I suppose I'm just kind of a person?" he queried, and she decided talking to him was getting them nowhere. The man was clearly insane.  
"Jesus Hobbs, what did you do?" she asked. She couldn't imagine her best friend deciding to chain someone up outside for being mentally ill.  
"Hey, excuse me, I need the toilet," the man behind her called out, but she didn't want to release him until she knew what was happening.

"Oh man, Tina, some stuff is going on." Hobbs rushed out of the station, heading straight for her, frantic energy and excitement pouring from him. She attempted to calm him down, for her own sake alongside his - she couldn't focus when this much emotion was filling the air.

***

Hobbs explained what had happened, which was that for about the first time ever, things had decided to get interesting in Bergsberg. And interesting had come in an utterly beautiful lady, who was full of fear but determined to look after what was hers. That protectiveness was immense, leaving Tina in utter awe of her before they had even spoken a word. Much to her initial disappointment, she was left to interview the other prisoner, who just felt vaguely bored, and was currently waiting in the storage cupboard.

That was, until she got a proper look at him. She'd recognised the name in the photograph, but hadn't made the link until she was standing directly in front of him, gazing up at him in total awe. He was ranting about his rights, but she had to interrupt him.  
"Are you Todd Brotzman from the Mexican Funeral?"  
He looked utterly confused, his eyes wide, but he slowly nodded.  
"Yeah?"  
She stood up, moving closer and gazing at him intently.  
"You're like, a god of the Seattle mid-2000s alt scene, dude."

He look confused, but she could see it now, recognise his face. She felt almost starstruck, wished she had a photo for him to sign or something. This was cool. If she was one of the universe's chosen ones, it could at least let her do things like this rather than murdering those she held dear.  
"What, like, seriously? You're like, a fan?"  
"This is the coolest day of my life," she admitted, and felt his confrontation fade at least a little.  
"Oh, well, it's like, no big deal," he answered, and she grinned at him. Because it was super cool. She was standing there with Todd Brotzman. _The_ Todd Brotzman.

And then they were off to investigate the case, and she nearly laughed as the woman, Farah Black, tried to explain to Hobbs that he was breaking the law. She liked her. She was serious and smart and utterly stunning. 

But then they had a case to work, so she focused on that.

***

They went to the Cardenas house, where Farah was _amazing_ and Dirk was a mixed bag of Holistic, dumb and rude, and they found a wet circle, and Dirk was insulting. Dirk was in an endless good mood, and Todd was kind of confused. She felt confused too, but she got the hang of it.

Then, there were more interesting things to ask about. Like what had been happening with Farah. Whether she stood a chance there. It turned out that Todd clearly had a massive crush - but it was aimed towards Dirk, alongside a bunch of self hatred., And then Dirk found a cool gun which made things explode, and she had fun with it. Dirk also took a go, and Todd was laughing, and she was excited, staring at the gun which shouldn't have worked. It was impossible, and impossible could mean danger.

"Hey, uh, Todd Brotzman, I'm freaking out. I mean, I'm really losing my shit right now." Todd tried to reassure her by saying things would get weirder (it was clear he wasn't actually any good at reassurance) but before she could say anything Dirk had called out, saying that there was a person in a tree.

Because Farah was awesome, she worked out it was the hand of an adult male. Dirk had some weird ideas, and Hobbs guessed it was Hector. Only then a child had been mentioned, and Tina felt a little uncomfortable - impressed that Farah had noticed the height markers, but feeling unwanted memories resurfacing at the thought of two parents being killed before their child disappeared and was wiped from the record books.

She was distracted by Dirk deciding he had worked out enough to get cuddles, even if he didn't seem to have solved that much. She smiled, but didn't interfere with the hug. Because she was fairly sure he was a project too, one of the others. She hadn't expected to run into another one, not here, not a safe distance from everyone else.

She focused on how they could transport the tree back to the station, because that was something she could control. 

Then when they were back in the station, Farah was explaining things - and Tina kept finding she was distracted by how she looked. Pushing beyond that, she suddenly felt emotions pouring from her.  
"You're sad."  
"What?"  
"Is this about you and Todd?" She wanted to check, had to hope that maybe Farah liked women. Might like her.  
"You and Dirk? Are they together?"  
That question seemed to stump Farah, as she tried to find a reason why they weren't together and failed utterly - Tina was hardly surprised with what she had felt there. But at least Farah didn't seem to mind her asking.  
"Hey, man, it's cool, I'm bi," she admitted, and there was a faint hint of a smile from Farah which meant she almost swooned. She pushed those thoughts aside for now - her flirting had to come second to the fact that Farah was actually unhappy. "No judgement here. I just thought maybe that's why you were sad."  
"I'm not sad," Farah answered, and the smile now was a little fake. 

Tina had never told anyone before. But she felt like she could tell Farah - she was used to dealing with a holistic.  
"I'm sort of an empath, I think. Truth is, I'm coming out of a ten to fifteen year dark period where I experimented with some pretty heavy drugs - " Now Farah looked concerned, but more about the drug use than her empathy. Before she could do anything more, the phone rang, and she had work to do.

So she and Farah had a case to investigate of their own, and that was exciting. Then Farah was giving her gun advice, and commenting on her body type, and explaining what she had learned. Listening about her past was nice, even if she couldn't help thinking about her own training.  
"Sounds intense."  
"I like intense," Farah answered, and Tina decided she was definitely flirting, and that she _liked_ Farah. She was used to flirting with people because she could, but this was different. She was enjoying spending time with Farah.

Then they got attacked by a pink haired man with a sword and a yoyo, and everything went to shit. Hobbs went missing, then turned up as a zombie, there was a love spell, an orgy - where she had been utterly overwhelmed by the pleasure flowing from everyone, but had got a kiss from Farah so she was counting that as a win, and then they had found themselves taking on the mage with no back up and no support. 

As they waited at the top of the quarry, she tried to remind herself that they were the police. They were in control, and Farah was amazing.


	7. This is where we belong (we are strong)

Farah's ambush plan didn't quite go to plan - but that wasn't her fault, the man they were facing was just a monster. He criticised the plan, and then told Farah she had always been a disappointment.

Tina could feel the fear and concern inside of her but she could also feel her strength, as she faced this magical being from another world who meant to kill them all.  
"You don't scare me," Farah said, and Tina could taste the truth of it. Farah had dealt with too much to be afraid now.

The Mage continued to insult her, but she was so much stronger than that. But then he waved his wand, and Tina found herself moving like a puppet, utterly helpless as she aimed the gun at Farah. She could feel her own tears slipping down her face, Farah's terror and guilt.  
"What do we do, what do we do, what do we do?" she begged Farah, and Farah smiled and shushed her and Tina felt herself calming. Her arm was released. Hobbs had continued with what he was doing, not even seeing that she was there. She could feel nothing from him, and that scared her.  
"Hobbs, It's me, Tina."  
"Calm down-" Farah began, but Tina couldn't listen, not when her best friend was casually stacking dynamite in a car. As the Mage explained his plan she was almost sick, her stomach twisting in horror as the man gloated and laughed about Hobbs' death. She was scared, but Farah was protective. Angry. Strong. It was the one thing that was stopping her screaming.  
"Mister Hobbs, take out your gun and aim it at them."

She sobbed, copying Farah by moving into a defensive stance her own gun held out, pleading with him not to do this. This wasn't Hobbs. Hobbs was her best friend, her hero. He wouldn't shoot her. He'd saved her, at least twice, and helped her hundreds of times. He wouldn't do this.  
"Sherlock, don't, what are you doing?" she begged, as Farah tried to calm him. She couldn't let this happen. He was advancing, his gaze unfocused, his own body emotionless as Farah panicked and the Mage was delighted.  
"Hobbs..." she pleaded, and then he did, the bullet piercing her side, knocking her to the floor. Farah got shot, and managed to return the fire.

Tina lay on the dirt bleeding, and her arm moved the gun to aim at Farah again.  
"No no no no no no," she pleaded with her own arm, but it was apparently not listening to her orders any more. The gun fired, and Farah collapsed backwards before firing at her again. Then she saw the clip fall, and the man was forcing Farah to hold her gun to her head. Seeing it wouldn't work, he made Tina move to grab her gun.

"Farah, I'm sorry!" she screamed the words, terrified she was about to kill her friend. But Farah landed half on her, forcing her arm to point away from her at the Mage. The first shot knocked the wand from his hand.  
"No one in Wendimoor could defeat me!" he screamed.  
"You're not in Wendimoor!" Farah yelled, and she moved the gun, and shot at the car.

Then everything was heat and flames and dust, and she lay on the floor, choking and feeling the agony of the others tangle with her own. From behind her, there was a cry of pain.  
"What the heck happened?" a voice called out, and that was Sherlock. Everything was going to be okay. He was back. She felt dizzy from the blood loss.  
"Tina, you alright?"  
"Hobbs, are you back?" she managed to ask. The world was spinning but she had to know if he'd come back to her.  
"Hi Tina," he said, his voice soft, the same way he'd always greeted her, and she started to sob.  
"Oh my god," she whispered, before calling out louder. "Hobbs, you're alive!" She hadn't lost him. She'd been so sure. She was crying and every breath hurt but Hobbs was alive. He wasn't sure what was happening, and Tina wasn't able to concentrate, barely focusing on the conversation.  
"The Mage made us do it," she muttered when he asked why she had shot him.  
"Did anybody shoot the fricking Mage?" Hobbs yelled, and Tina was startled to hear him swear.  
"Hobbs, be cool man, be cool," she pleaded. Farah was still being awesome, telling them how to survive, and breathing was hard but she could try.  
"You having trouble breathing?" Farah asked, and Tina lied and called out no. Farah was standing.  
"You got it girl," she muttered, before Farah fell, and after that everything went black.

***

The next few times she woke up she was in the hospital. She didn't like that, the white walls and smell of disinfectant made her skin itch. But she could feel Hobbs and Farah nearby. Her family and the woman she thought was the most incredible person she had ever met. That helped a lot.

After a few days, they were allowed outside. She suspected that was Hobbs' doing, that he'd known she was hating being cooped up there. The three of them were sitting in their wheelchairs, playing cards, and she kept sneaking glances at Farah, feeling slight twinges of want when Farah looked at her. She was sure she was blushing, and the knowing smile from Hobbs wasn't helping anything.

She played another card, and then started talking about her plans for a sensible life. Farah was laughing, and that made her continue.  
"All I'm saying is, from now on, I'm all about moderation. Getting shot twice was enough. Bucket list, check. No need to do that ever again."  
Hobbs seemed to think that it beat their normal work, complaining he had missed the good stuff.  
"Hobbs, do you have any idea of the crazy crap I had to do without you? There were witches, zombies and wizards and shit."  
Hobbs's grin broadened and he teased her.  
"That's the good stuff."  
"It was one of the top… eleven craziest experiences of my life," she argued, and Farah was laughing again. Tina thought she could listen to Farah's laugh all day if she got the chance. She wanted that chance.  
"You did good Tina," Farah said, and the proud smile she had made Tina blush slightly.  
"Thanks Farah," she answered, and she knew she was grinning too much, knew Hobbs knew, and didn't care at all. This was happiness. She'd never had a drug that felt like this. She'd had other highs that were stronger, more intense, but this was something deeper, something she didn't know the name for yet.  
"Hobbs, stop smiling at me like that," she muttered, and he grinned, hiding his face behind his hand.  
"I know, I just... I always knew you'd be a good cop."

Tina fought back tears. Because she'd done it. She'd helped. And then Farah was trying to hand back her badge, but Hobbs wouldn't let her, because he knew she needed it. Knew it would be good for her. For both of them. And then he wheeled off saying something about getting some water, and Tina found herself smiling shyly at Farah. Blackwing hadn't noticed her when they'd visited, so either her escape had worked, or they were letting her stay free for now. Either way, she had to make the best of it.

"Hey, Farah, when we can stand, you think you want to go out for a drink?"  
"Bars aren't... really my thing," Farah answered, and Tina frowned, but then Farah reached out, resting her hand on Tina's shoulder. "I've heard I cook pretty well, so I could come around your place for dinner."

Tina nodded slowly.  
"Look, I'll be honest, I haven't exactly... I haven't had much experience of this kind of thing. I've never really dated."  
Farah shrugged a little.  
"Me neither. But we defeated the Mage, we can work this out."  
Somehow, Tina couldn't see anything to argue about there.

***

Dating was fun.

She liked waking up in Farah's arms, able to smile at her and know she wasn't alone.  
Tina had stayed in Bergsberg, it was her home, and she had a job she loved, and Farah worked with the agency. But she made time to see her, and often she'd bring Todd and Dirk along too. Hobbs would make a fuss over Dirk, and she would spend some time with Farah, listening to the latest adventures and telling Farah just how much of a badass she was.

Farah always smiled when Tina said that, even though it was the truth. Tina had a badass girlfriend, and her hero as her best friend, and the frontman for a band she had loved when she'd had nothing else as a friend. 

One morning, she was lying in bed with Farah, Farah's arms around her, and she brushed her hand over her shoulder. Tina had long since disguised her Blackwing brand under a tribal tattoo, but Farah's fingertips traced out the pattern.  
"You were...you were there, weren't you?"

Slowly, Tina nodded, able to feel the concern and anxiety there, but this wasn't a trick and Farah wasn't mad. Not at her. That protective fire was burning, but it was to keep Tina safe, not harm her.  
"Why didn't you say?"  
"I don't like... I haven't told anyone, not since I left. You were the first person I told about my powers-"  
"What?"  
"I'm an empath," Tina said softly. "Told you that when we found Hector in that tree.  
Farah's arms tightened around her.  
"Why did you tell me so early?"

"Dunno. Felt like I could. Like it was right... Mona's Lamia right?"  
Farah nodded.  
"Could never place Dirk. His emotions aren't... they're strong, but not a pattern I know."  
"He was Icarus," Farah murmured, her voice barely more than a whisper, as though embarrassed to say it even in the shelter of their bed.

Tina thought of the hatred she'd felt toward Icarus when he was just a child. It all felt a long time ago now. Next time she saw him, she'd apologise, embrace him. But she had other priorities first.  
"I'm glad he's got you," she whispered, then smiled flirtily, happy with where she was. "But I'm gladder I've got you."

Farah laughed and rolled her eyes, but pressed a kiss to her lips.  
"Want to go out to target practice later?"  
"Will you stand unnecessarily close and touch me and worry that I'll mess up?"  
"Always."  
"Wouldn't miss it," Tina answered, closing her eyes and thanking the universe for this. Because this was all she could ever need. Farah smiled, wrapping the blankets around both of them.  
"I guess we can stay here a little longer first."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. I just love these girls so much, and they really do deserve happiness.


End file.
